Gee, Your Hair Smells Terrific...

A seemingly uneventful evening this past Monday quickly took a turn for the worst when I was preparing my close.

A gentleman came in and started rooting through my lovely clean panty table.

I should tell you that my panty table looks impeccable. Always.

Until men come in at quarter to nine and mess it up.

This literally sends creepy crawlies down my back. I hate it.

So, he's rooting, digging, using his claws to trample the poor table and when I ask if he needs help, he says he's fine.

I'm patiently waiting while he's got his panties in one hand and begins to look through the sleepwear.

He comes to the counter and lays his goods down.

It's at this point that I realize he's drunk.

Totally inebriated.

As I'm ringing in his purchases, I notice that he's leaning a little bit closer to me, inch by inch.

I'm still being polite, telling him his total, taking his money, slowly leaning back.

He's still coming.

I notice that his eyes seem to be closing a little, he's sniffing.

He's SMELLING me!!!

Seriously.

I am almost sitting on the opposite counter since he's practically straddling my counter and

smelling away.

I smile, pass him his change and wish him a nice evening and a Happy Holiday.

He turns to leave and just as he's about to exit the premises, he turns to me and tells me how nice I smell.

With that, he's gone.

Out the door.

Like an apparition.

A drunk apparition who likes to smell attractive sales people with nice boobs.